Christmas With Mom
by vanessa1
Summary: Will Tara’s Christmas gift to Buffy help her or only make things worse?


Christmas With Mom  
  
Author: vanessa  
  
E-mail: vkincaid@shreve.net  
  
Summary: Will Tara's Christmas gift to Buffy help her or only make things worse?  
  
Disclaimer: Buffy and Co belong to Joss and Co.  
  
Feedback: Always MUCH appreciated. I'm still new at this.  
  
Distribution: I don't know why you'd want to, but sure, if I know where it's going.  
  
Author's Note: This is totally self-indulgent and much too verbose. BTVS is one of my favorite shows and  
  
I love the idea of Buffy and Spike as soul mates, but I am getting so tired of the  
  
unrelenting cloak of self-pity Buffy is being draped in, both on the show and in the fan  
  
fiction pages. She's depressed. I understand how that is, I've been there. But anyone  
  
who gets as many chances at getting it right as this chick does and then doesn't even make  
  
the attempt needs a good smack upside the head. This is Buffy's smack. I appreciate the  
  
opportunity for getting this all off of my chest and I hope you all will forgive me for  
  
venting. Please don't flame me too bad. Merry Christmas.  
  
  
  
Buffy awoke as she did most mornings since she came back, in a gray mood. The first thought in her head was that today was Christmas Eve. Yippee.  
  
She lay staring at the ceiling, feeling relief than in two days it would all be over. Despite Dawn's best efforts, Buffy had found no joy in the holidays. It was simply.a chore.  
  
She had gone through the motions, for Dawn's sake. She had made Christmas cookies. For Dawn. She had ventured out into the pushing, shoving mobs to do Christmas shopping. For Dawn. She had dragged out the Christmas tree and ornaments from the attic and made a stab at decorating. For Dawn. She was beginning to hate the effort. And, God help her, she was beginning to hate Dawn.  
  
Christmas carols grated on her nerves until she thought she'd go crazy. The worst offender was "Joy to the World". It seemed to be playing everywhere, mocking her with its cheerful sentiment, pursuing her as relentlessly as any demon ever had. Xander had been singing it yesterday when he stopped by to deliver presents and it took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to rip out his throat.  
  
Buffy rolled out of bed and padded across the room to her window, pushing it open. He hadn't tried to come last night. Again. She had told him to stay away from her. He was and it pissed her off that she should be missing him. That's what she felt the most lately, royally pissed. Buffy leaned her face against the glass, staring out at the tree beyond, the coolness against her cheek barely registering. She felt the despair begin to creep in again. When she realized that she was looking for a pile of cigarette butts at the base of the tree, Buffy jerked back in disgust. The anger kept the despair away a little. Maybe that's why she encouraged it.  
  
Nobody understood, nobody cared. That refrain was her constant companion, echoing through her head like a mantra. Nobody understood, nobody cared. They just wanted her to be "happy". Ha, Buffy thought sourly, like it was that simple. But she slapped a smile on her face and put on a performance each day to ease their minds. But the smile never reached her eyes. If anyone noticed, no one said anything. At least not to her.  
  
This whole charade was for them anyway. Nobody cared about her, not really. They just wanted to make themselves feel better. They wanted her to ease their guilt for pulling her out of heaven. Even the very act of bringing her back had been more for them than for her. They didn't see that each day it was harder to find a reason to get up in the morning. That each day she tried, and failed, to find something to care about. Some days the very act of brushing her hair took more energy than she possessed and she would sit staring unseeingly at the mirror until something, a noise or some stray thought, reminded her to move again.  
  
Sometimes she saw how her indifference hurt them. Sometimes she saw the helplessness in their eyes at not being able to make her feel better. Sometimes she saw their fear, fear that they had brought her back just to lose her again, this time to the fortress she was throwing up around herself. She just couldn't seem to care about how they felt anymore.  
  
Tonight they would all be here, doing their best to spread joy. Dawn had even convinced Tara to stop by, if just for a little while. Spike wouldn't be here. Dawn had tried to get him to come as well, but he told her he would just drop his gifts off at the back porch. Dawn didn't understand why Buffy had so suddenly and so ruthlessly cut Spike out of her life and Buffy wasn't prepared to explain it to her. So, despite Buffy's demands, Dawn had refused to cut Spike out of her life as well.  
  
Buffy made her bed and laid her clothes out for the day. The sound of the shower told Buffy that Dawn had beat her to the bathroom. Dawn's high soprano voice rose above the running water, singing an energetic version of "Deck the Halls". The sound of it grated on Buffy's ears like fingernails on a chalkboard. She squeezed her eyes shut and sighed deeply. The next two days, she believed, would probably be the longest of her life.  
  
"Would it hurt too much to speak to your mother again?"  
  
Tara had been acting nervous, well, more nervous than usual since she had arrived, and she was starting to make Buffy nervous, too. Several times Buffy had caught uncertain glances directed her way. Tara would look away, drum her fingers and bite her nails. Then she would glance at Buffy again. Clearly, something was on her mind. Tara finally approached Buffy when she was alone in the kitchen. Tara's question caught her totally off guard.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"If you could talk to your mother, even for just a little while, would that be a good thing or would it hurt too much?"  
  
Buffy stared at Tara, not sure how to respond. She kept waiting for the punchline, but Tara was perfectly serious. "You can do that?"  
  
"I can't, no, but." Tara looked nervously towards the living room, then led Buffy out to the back porch. Once sure they were alone, Tara brought out a square box from a pocket in her skirt and held it out to Buffy. "But this can."  
  
As Buffy reached for the box, she could feel energy vibrating around it. Inside she found a talisman, its design ugly yet compelling to the eye. There was a warmth emanating from it that Buffy felt more on the inside of her hand than on her fingertips.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"It doesn't have a name. At least if it does, I've never discovered it. It belonged to my mother and it is very powerful magic. Even you can feel it and you're not a witch." Buffy nodded mutely, unable to take her eyes off of it. "It only works once for each person who owns it. At midnight of the first Christmas Day since a family member has died, it lets the owner, well, visit with them, for a little while at least. You know, so you can ask questions, say what you never had a chance to, stuff like that. Closure, I guess." Tara touched the talisman briefly, remembering. "The magic is gone for me. But unless you think talking to your mom would hurt too much, I want you to have it."  
  
"Why me? Why not Dawn?"  
  
Tara looked at her solemnly, equal measures of compassion and worry on her face. Tara's concern was the only one Buffy trusted, because Tara was the only one who had never needed anything from Buffy. Her whole focus had been Willow, then later Dawn. So Buffy had no reason not to believe Tara when she said, "Because you need it more."  
  
Buffy stared at the talisman a little longer, feeling something she hadn't felt in a while. Was it anticipation? Hope? She wasn't sure. She was only sure of the resolve boiling up from inside of her. "What do I have to do?"  
  
"It will work anywhere, but it is more powerful if you go to the gravesite. Then at midnight, you hold it in your hands like this." Tara cupped both hands together to demonstrate. "Then you picture your mom in your mind as clearly as you can. How she looked, how she sounded, even her scent if you can remember it. And say 'Come to me' until she finally does."  
  
"Sounds simple enough." Buffy looked at the clock through the kitchen window. "11:30. I have to get out of here."  
  
"I know, I'll cover for you." Without another word, Buffy left the porch and started towards the woods. "Buffy?" Buffy paused and half- turned, waiting. "I hope you find what you are looking for."  
  
Buffy opened her mouth as if to speak. But what was there to say? Silently she slipped into the trees and disappeared.  
  
Buffy was used to cemeteries. She had after all, spent a large portion of her life in one cemetery or another. She'd even recently crawled out of one. So being in one at midnight shouldn't have felt any different than sitting in her living room. But for some reason, sitting beside her mother's grave as the time crept towards midnight on Christmas Day made the hairs on the back of her neck prick up.  
  
She stared at the watch on her wrist, willing the time to move faster. Would it work? What would she ask her? How would she look? Finally it was time. A clock chimed midnight from somewhere in the distance, causing Buffy to jump. She took the talisman in her hands the way Tara had showed her and, closing her eyes, pictured Joyce Summers as clearly as she could. She dredged up every detail she could remember. The scent of her shampoo, the way Joyce would tilt her head when she was annoyed, the warmth she had for people, everything. The talisman began to grow warmer in Buffy's hands and she could feel its energy begin to travel along her nerve endings.  
  
"Come to me, come to me, come to me."  
  
Perfect stillness surrounded her and the air felt different somehow. Buffy opened her eyes to find herself on a path. She seemed to be in the mountains, yet she saw nothing in the distance to confirm this. She saw no sun or moon, but there was light enough to see by. The stillness was absolute and rather unnerving. She heard no birds, no insects, no wind. It was not a landscape that she recognized, yet it felt, familiar.  
  
A sudden movement startled her. In front of her on the path a white dove landed on the ground. It fluttered its wings for a moment, making no sound, then sat still, watching her. Then, fluttering only a few feet off the ground, the bird flew about fifty feet down the path, landed then turned around to look at Buffy as if to say, "Well, come on." Buffy followed and the dove repeated its actions twice more before finally disappearing into the distance. The terrain had not changed a bit as far as Buffy could tell. It was as if she hadn't moved and she wondered what had just happened.  
  
Then, light as a feather, she felt a touch on her cheek.  
  
Buffy's breath froze in her chest. A sudden fear swamped her, paralyzed her, making it impossible for her to turn around. Then a small, musical sliver of sound broke the silence, soft as a whisper, yet as powerful as a shout. A single word unfroze her limbs and crumbled the walls she had been trying to erect around her emotions.  
  
"Buffy."  
  
Buffy turned slowly and her breath caught at the beauty shining so brightly into her eyes. Joyce stood before her, dressed all in white and glowing with a light more pure and brilliant than any she had seen on earth. Only the light in heaven could compare.  
  
"Mom!" Buffy starts towards her then stops, uncertain what was allowed.  
  
"It's alright, Buffy, you can touch me." With a cry, Buffy throws herself into her mother's arms and sobbed brokenheartedly into her bosom. All the grief and pain and fear and remorse Buffy had tried so hard to hide away from the world came pouring out onto the glowing white garment. There were no secrets here.  
  
Joyce let her cry for a while as she stroked her hair lovingly, humming a half-forgotten fragment of a tune. After a time, Buffy pulled away, pulling herself together with an effort, wiping her eyes like a child.  
  
"Shhh, that's enough tears. Our time is short and precious enough as it is."  
  
"You look so beautiful."  
  
"Thank-you. You look as if you haven't been eating right. And your eyes look so sad. Buffy, I didn't mean to leave."  
  
"I know. I didn't mean to leave either."  
  
"Yes, I know, Willow's spell pulled you out."  
  
"Yanked me out, against my will."  
  
"Honey, every baby born is yanked out of heaven against their will. Why do you think they come into the world kicking and screaming? But there is a purpose to life. Why else would we have to go through it? And I would say your life has more purpose than others. You keep getting so many chances at it."  
  
"But I want to go back. Please can't I go back with you?"  
  
"Buffy! It doesn't work that way. You haven't lost your place in heaven. It's been simply.postponed. One day, you'll go back there."  
  
"Maybe one day can come sooner than later."  
  
Joyce's face goes suddenly still and cold. "You can't mean that."  
  
"Can't I?"  
  
"Buffy, that's the surest way to guarantee that you won't go back. Heaven is a place for the people who lived their lives well. Failing to do so this time would jeopardize your place there. Life is a gift, whether you want it or not. And it is a gift you can not waste, otherwise it a blasphemy against the very place you most wish to be."  
  
Buffy's eyes filled with fresh tears. "Don't you want me with you?"  
  
"Now enough of that. Your time on earth is finite. We have eternity to have mother/daughter chats. It doesn't even compare." Joyce studied Buffy consideringly. "Speaking of chats. You know, you should call him. He worries about you."  
  
"You're talking about Giles. He made it clear that he doesn't want to have anything else to do with me."  
  
"You know that's not true."  
  
"He left me."  
  
"Buffy, Giles loves you. The reason he came back in the first place is because he loves you like his own daughter."  
  
"Then why did he leave?"  
  
"Because he loves you like his own daughter. And sometimes a parent has to do things that are painful, but what they feel is in the best interest of the child. A father only wants to love his daughter, but sometimes you can love a child to death. Not physically, but in their spirit. He felt that as long as he stayed, you wouldn't even try. Giles didn't want to go, but he believed that the only way to help you was to leave. You wanted him to take care of things for you, but sometimes the best way to help someone is to do nothing. He believed that his presence was preventing you from standing on your own, so he decided his best course was tough love, cutting the apron strings, whatever. He'll never know for sure whether his decision was right or wrong, but Giles believed it to be right. And he made that decision based on love." Joyce smiled warmly. "You know the old saying 'This will hurt me more than it will hurt you'? That very often is nothing but the simple truth. And believe it or not, like any parent, this has been harder on him than on you. He didn't leave you alone. You still have friends and family around if you need them. He's by himself, worrying each day if he made the right decision."  
  
"Did he?"  
  
"Yes.  
  
Buffy shook her head, no longer certain of her righteous anger towards Giles. "Maybe, I don't know, it's just, everyone I love leaves."  
  
"Spike is still there."  
  
"I don't want to talk about Spike."  
  
"I never took for a coward, Buffy."  
  
Buffy's eyes widened in shock. "Wha-?"  
  
"For someone who is absolutely fearless when it comes to facing the world of demons and monsters, you are an incredibly fearful young woman on the inside. Not your fault, I suppose. Angel did that to you. Not his fault either. Or maybe the fault is mine, and Angel is just easy to blame."  
  
"No, Mom, it wasn't you. And besides, I don't love Spike."  
  
Joyce sighed. "Buffy, since you've been back, at least until recently, you've consistently sought out his company. Why? You were sharing secrets with him that you wouldn't tell the others. Why? You said yourself that he was the only one you could stand to be around. Why? You kissed him. Twice. Why? Then at the end of one of the most heartbreaking displays of love/hate that it has been my misfortune to witness, the two of you had sex. Again, I ask, why?"  
  
"No!" Buffy shrieks, covering her ears. That her mother had seen that, that.night, horrified her to no end. "I don't want to hear anymore!"  
  
Joyce grabbed Buffy's hands and pulled them away from her face. "Buffy, I'm saying this because I love you and I want what's best for you."  
  
"How can Spike be what's best for me? He's a vampire."  
  
"So what?"  
  
"I'm the Slayer!"  
  
"So slay him. For that matter, why haven't you slain him long before now?"  
  
There was that question again. It was the question that forever haunted her, the question everyone asked, the one she would, on occasion, ask herself, but was too afraid to answer. "It was the chip, he was helpless."  
  
"Ridiculous. How many vampires have you slain just as they were coming out of the ground, not able to defend themselves at all? You need new excuses. Spike loves you."  
  
"He can't! OK, so maybe I can't kill him, but he's still a soulless vampire. He can't love."  
  
"Then how can you explain that Spike has defied his very nature for this non-existent love? Spike allowed himself to be tortured to protect you and Dawn. He would have gladly died for both of you and often wishes that he had. When he saw your lifeless body laying at the base of that tower, he wept as if his world had ended. Did anyone bother to tell you that? And after you were gone, what was to keep him in Sunnydale? Just Dawn, whom he adores by the way, and his promise to you. Why would a soulless vampire care about honoring a promise to anyone? Why would a soulless vampire even make a promise?"  
  
"I-I don't know."  
  
"Because he loves you, nitwit. He understands you as nobody ever has, he accepts you as nobody ever has. He wants nothing from you, expects nothing from you. He just wants to be there for you if you should need him. This soulless vampire could teach us all a thing or two about love."  
  
Buffy stares at Joyce helplessly, barely able to take in so much at once. Joyce continued relentlessly. "Spike loves you and whether you want to admit it or not, you love him. Deception is never good, self-deception especially so. Believe it or not, you two are soul mates, and are meant to be together. Not everyone is lucky enough to have a soul mate. And as much as we would sometimes like to, we really don't get to choose who they will be. Do you think Spike wanted to fall in love with a Slayer? But he did and he's accepted it. So should you."  
  
"I'm not sure I can. Maybe he can love, but he's still Spike."  
  
"Which means what exactly?"  
  
Buffy blinked, sure she had just been stuck with a trick question. "Uh, well, he's rude and obnoxious and arrogant and, and.he's evil."  
  
Joyce smiled. "Really, Buffy, has Spike been up to much evil lately?" Joyce's smile widened as Buffy racked her brain for an example. "Do you know what else it means to be Spike? Spike loves with his whole being, which is something few humans can manage. He's honest, for the most part, and he's faithful. He was with Drusilla for over one hundred years and would probably still be with her if she hadn't left him. No, he isn't perfect, but neither are you. None of us are."  
  
Joyce took Buffy's hands into her own and looked at her intently. "You can deny what you feel, but you will never be happy or feel whole or complete. A soul mate is someone who completes you. You've never felt that with anyone, not even Angel. You feel it with Spike. And it scares you. But give up the fear and love each other. Will life be easy? No. Will it be easier without each other? No, because without each other you will never feel whole. You need, love and understand each other. Do you know how few couples ever find that?"  
  
"I-I-I need to think."  
  
"Buffy, you think too much. When two people find each other, I mean really find each other, maybe you shouldn't question it too much. Just accept it. I know why you fight this so hard. You're afraid. You're afraid of many things, but mostly you're afraid of what you think loving Spike says about you. After all you've been through since you were called, if you don't know who you are, what kind of person you are by now, I don't know when you will."  
  
"But, Mom, that's just it, I don't know who I am anymore. Spike's chip." Buffy closed her eyes and took a ragged breath. She gathered her courage around her and asked, "Mom, what am I?"  
  
Joyce's eyes were troubled, but her face remained serene. She had known this question could come up, and had cowardly hoped their time together would expire before she asked it. But now that she had - "You're Buffy Summers, same as always."  
  
"Then why doesn't the chip work with me anymore? Am I no longer human?"  
  
"You're still human, Buffy."  
  
"Mom, you're not answering my question. Tell me, what happened to me?"  
  
Joyce took Buffy's hands and clutched them tightly. This was going to be hard. "The spell was flawed. The magic wasn't powerful enough to pull a soul out of heaven. Willow brought back your life force, your personality, your self. But part of you was left behind."  
  
Buffy grew very still. A coldness crept over her and she shivered. "What part?" she whispered.  
  
"Your soul."  
  
With a groan Buffy collapsed to the ground. Joyce was beside her, holding her, rocking her as she had when Buffy was a baby. "My-my soul?"  
  
"Your soul, your spark of divinity, it is still in heaven. You're still you, Buffy. You're just separated." Buffy cried brokenly into her mother's lap. So much made sense now. Her lack of feeling, her attraction to Spike. "That's why I. why me and Spike. we're, we're just alike."  
  
"Partly. But mostly because Spike's soul is in heaven, too. With yours."  
  
"Wh-what?"  
  
"Does that surprise you? Your souls are already together as mates. That's what soul mate means. It is the rest of you that are making things difficult." Joyce stroked Buffy's hair until her tears slowed. "I can't be there to help you adapt, but Spike can. Let him help you. He wants to and he can. Everything you're going through, he already has. Yes, he is a vampire and you're not, but the experience is similar."  
  
"Can you promise he won't leave?" she sniffed  
  
"Can you promise you won't?" Buffy opened her mouth and then closed it just as quickly. Here was something she hadn't considered. Joyce nodded as if Buffy had just confirmed something. "Spike runs the same risk of heartache as you, Buffy. He had become resigned to the idea that his love would always be unrequited and that the most he could hope for was to be your friend. But then you gave him reason to hope for something more. Life, love, pain, sorrow doesn't just happen to you, Buffy, it happens to everyone around you as well. And you are all interconnected. What they do affects you, true, but what you do affects all of them, too. And as much as your pain may make it seem so, the universe doesn't revolve around you."  
  
Buffy was silent for a while as the sheer weight of what her mother had told her threatened to put her into sensory overload. "Why didn't they just leave me there?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Take me back with you."  
  
"I can't."  
  
Suddenly Buffy was furious, the heat of it burning away her tears as she leaped up off the ground. "Well, why the hell not? Look what they did to me. I'm broken." Buffy began to pace, fanning her anger to a fine rage. "They drag me out of heaven and expect me to be happy about it. They don't understand, they don't care. Then you! You dump all this on me, forgive Giles, accept Spike, oh and by the way, you have no soul. But go on back like a good little girl, go on back to hell. You're still up there, you don't know what it's like for me. I'M IN HELL!"  
  
All during Buffy's tirade, Joyce had remained on the ground not looking at her daughter. Whether she was even listening or not Buffy was not certain. But finally Joyce rose majestically from the ground. Her eyes were tragic, but her face was set in such a severe expression of grim resolve that Buffy's anger died as if someone had flicked a switch. All at once, Buffy was afraid.  
  
"Buffy, it is time to put away your self-pity. Everyone has pain. No one is exempt. So stop thinking yours makes you special somehow. You think life sucks? Life sucks for everybody. They deal. You'd rather be in heaven? Everyone would rather be in heaven. They deal. You need to grow up and get on with your life.'"  
  
"Mom.?  
  
"In hell? You have no idea. But you're about to find out."  
  
Joyce's eyes were brimming with tears at what she was about to do. She clasped her fingers around Buffy's suddenly cold ones, and then everything disappeared.  
  
Buffy's head was swimming and she felt slightly nauseous. Then she became aware of the sound. It was like a living thing, surrounding her, enveloping her, pounding at her. It was loud, louder than thought, filling her ears, filling her mind, inescapable. Screaming. She heard every kind of variation from high-pitched shrieks to guttural moans. But all of it was constant, pain-filled, hopeless. No force in nature could have compelled Buffy to open her eyes to see what was making those sounds. But she was no longer in nature and open her eyes she did. Nothing in her experience, nothing in her nightmares had even come close to the scene before her. Mom was right. She had no idea.  
  
One person was covered completely with bees, covering every inch of their naked flesh, stinging, crawling into eye sockets, into nostrils, into their gaping screaming mouth. The number of bees never diminished. The stinging never paused. To her left, she saw a man being ripped apart by some kind of beast, only to have his body parts reassemble to be ripped apart again. One woman's flesh was melting off of her, falling in gobs, splatting wetly at her feet, then remolding itself to her bones so the process continued unabated. Another being, Buffy couldn't tell if it had been male or female, staggered past, enveloped in the traditional fire, their flesh forever burning yet never consumed. And everywhere, screaming.  
  
Incredibly, Buffy could hear Joyce's voice clearly in her ears. "As you can see, hell torment is different for each person. You never stop screaming because the pain never dulls. But that's just physical. In your mind you see your greatest regret played out again and again."  
  
She points out a man nearby, encased in a glass coffin. He was crying and his tears were filling up the space around him. "The salt from his tears eats away at his skin, until it reaches the flesh underneath, literally pouring salt into wounds." The coffin was almost full, covering the man's mouth and nose, only his hands were above water, pounding uselessly at the lid above him. He was drowning in his own tears. Then the water drained away and it started again. "But the worst for him, is what he is seeing behind his eyelids. You see, one night in a drunken stupor, he killed his wife. He didn't mean to, he didn't intend to, but he did. Now he watches himself in his mind's eye kill her again and again. He can't escape it, he can't turn away, it's always with him."  
  
Buffy's eyes were wide with horror and her body began to sway. The sights before her, the sounds ringing in her ears, the smell of rot and decay in her nostrils were overwhelming, overpowering, but she couldn't look away, couldn't shut out the sound. Joyce continued, "And despite all the screaming you're doing, you can't hear your own screams because your ears are filled with the voices of every person you ever wronged or hurt, shouting, crying, accusing, laughing."  
  
"Please, stop."  
  
But Joyce wasn't finished. "Every being you see here would gladly have the hellish existence you don't want. Sure, none of them got yanked out of heaven, but none of them will ever get another chance at love. None will ever get another chance at anything. They have no friends or family to turn to. They will never have chocolate chip cookies dunked in coffee- milk. They will never see the sun in the morning or the stars at night. They'll never hear music or see a rainbow or feel the cooling touch of rain. Buffy." Joyce wrapped her arms around her shaken daughter, holding her close. "If you can never find anything else to be grateful for, remember you have at least two: You're not in this place and one day you'll find heaven again. Do you know how few people have the assurance that heaven awaits them? You're going back, Buffy. Someday. That alone should give you a few happy moments each day. Happiness is not a state of being we have no control over, it is a choice we make each day. And the only way you can lose your place in heaven is to try to get there too soon. There is a certain place here that I don't want you to see. It is reserved for suicides, people who threw away their chance at heaven. They didn't know that you don't get to heaven by dying. You get to heaven by living. People that kill themselves when life gets too hard do so because they hope for something better on the other side. The cruel irony is that the very act of taking their own lives costs them the peace they so desperately sought. Life hurts, and they thought that they could make the pain stop by slitting their wrists or swallowing pills, or putting a hole in a river, or taking crazy chances until it finally kills them. Then they learn what pain really is. I don't want you to see that place, Buffy, it makes all of the rest of this seem tame." Joyce desperately cupped Buffy's face in her hands, tears freely falling between them. "Please, Buffy, if you forget everything I've told you tonight, please at least remember this. No matter how bad you think things are, how sucky you think your life is, it could always be worse."  
  
Buffy soon realized that the only sounds she was hearing were her own sobs. She opened her eyes to find herself back on the rocky path. Her mother stood a little away from her, her back facing Buffy, her shoulders hunched. "I'm sorry I had to show you that."  
  
Buffy hugged Joyce from behind, pressing her face against the fabric, inhaling deeply, trying to replace the stench of death with her mother's soothing scent. "I'm sorry, too. But I needed to see it."  
  
"Yes." Joyce straightened and turned around. "Our time is growing short."  
  
"Mom, no."  
  
"Please remember, always, that life is a gift. No matter, how many chances you get, no matter how rotten you think your life it, it is worth it each and every time. There is something wonderful about every life. You just have to find it. Promise me, Buffy, promise me that you'll remember that.  
  
"I promise."  
  
"I can't tell you the reasons life is worth living. You have to discover those on your own. But I can tell you they exist. You have everything you need to be happy in the world, maybe not perfectly happy, the way you were in heaven, but happy enough. You have friends and family that love you, a man who can complete you, work that is important, a life to live. Spike was right when he said, 'The pain that you feel can only heal by living.'"  
  
"Mom, you're starting to fade!" The light surrounding her mother had begun to take on a fuzziness and Buffy could now see the landscape through Joyce's body. The light began to expand, growing brighter, yet at the same time softer.  
  
"Oh, dear, and there was so much we didn't cover. OK, I'll talk fast. Maybe you should look into hiring someone to run the gallery for you. That would be a nice little income for you and Dawn."  
  
"Mom, don't go!"  
  
"Economize. Buy generic instead of name brand, and shop at Wal-Mart instead of The Gap." Despite Buffy's pleas, Joyce continued to fade. "I love you, Buffy. Tell Dawn I love her, too. I'll look in on you from time to time. Don't waste the life you have. Make me proud." And in that instant, Buffy found herself back in the cemetery, weeping beside her mother's grave.  
  
But these tears were of the healing kind. "A good cry" as her mom used to call it. When she finished, Buffy sat up, her back against the headstone, her knees pulled to her chin. She listened to the silence. She wasn't sure what she was listening for until she heard it. A heartbeat. Her own heartbeat. A sign of life. A sign of her life.  
  
Buffy caught a glimpse of her watch in the moonlight. It was a few minutes past midnight. She felt as if she had been gone for hours. She pulled herself to her feet and swayed only slightly for a brief moment. Otherwise, she seemed to be no worse off for her experience. But Buffy did notice a difference. She seemed, lighter, somehow, uncluttered, almost hollow. Like a fresh wind had blown away the cobwebs.  
  
Buffy picked up the talisman from where she had dropped it and headed home. Some kind of night bird, she didn't know what kind, began a brief song from a tree ahead of her. Buffy stopped to listen, a slow smile curving her mouth. With a start, she realized that she couldn't remember the last time she taken the time to listen to a bird's song. Even before she had died.  
  
Buffy quickened her step, anxious to get home. It was Christmas Day and she looked forward to making up to Dawn and everyone else for being a Grinch. A tune played in her head, not a Christmas song, but an old favorite of her father's, the words taking on a significance for her that they had never had before: "You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need."  
  
Spike heard what sounded like a Stones tune coming towards him through the trees. Though woefully out of tune, you had to admire the singer's enthusiasm. He had just dropped off a couple of Christmas gift bags for Nibblet and Big Sis outside of the kitchen door. Despite Dawn's invitation he had no desire to go inside. Scooby Gang merriment, Christmas merriment at that, wasn't his cup of blood. He heard enough of the conversation to know they were discussing Buffy, who was apparently absent. He had felt a sense of relief that wouldn't be tempted to go inside. The plan was to stay out of her sight until she realized she missed him terribly, then when she came crawling, he would be cool and disdainful, only to relent at the last possible moment to take her in his arms again. Trouble was she wasn't missing him fast enough. And Spike wasn't sure how much longer he could stay away from her.  
  
At that moment, Buffy came skipping out of the trees (skipping?) singing at the top of her voice. "You can't always get what you want, you can't always get what you want, you can't always get what you want."  
  
Spike stood stock still, dumfounded, his mouth open in shock, his cigarette falling heedlessly from his lips. "Slayer?"  
  
Buffy did a couple of quick bunny hops and came to a halt in front of him. "Hi, Spike."  
  
"Slayer, Buffy, are you alright?"  
  
"Sure, don't I look alright?"  
  
Actually she looked more than alright. She was bloody breathtaking. Her eyes were dancing, her smile was like sunshine and the moonlight was dancing in her hair.  
  
"Spike, you're staring."  
  
"Cor, you're beautiful." Realizing he had spoken aloud, Spike tried to backpedal. "Sorry, what I meant."  
  
"That's OK, Spike." Buffy shocked him senseless by quickly wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. "I think you're beautiful, too." Buffy gazed up at him, her eyes shining. "I really do love you, you know."  
  
"Uh, uh."  
  
Buffy laughed. "It's OK, Spike, I'm not crazy. I just had an epiphany. I realized that I'm grateful that I'm alive and I'm not in hell." Buffy snuggled even closer to Spike.  
  
The vampire knew there was more to the story than she was telling, wrapping his arms around her slowly, afraid this was a dream, and he would soon be waking. But the woman in his arms was warm and smelled sweet and felt alive. "I love you, Buffy."  
  
"I know." Buffy and Spike gazed at each other for a few moments, then Buffy stepped out of the embrace. "Come on in, it's chilly out here. Although I guess you don't feel it. I have to call Giles to let him know everything's OK. It's an eight-hour difference, isn't it? So he should be up. Oh, and you've gotta come for Christmas dinner tomorrow, I mean today. Dawn and I will be devastated if you don't." A bemused Spike followed the chattering Buffy, wondering what rabbit hole he'd managed to fall into. As Buffy turned to smile at him, he decided that he was perfectly happy to stay.  
  
Conversation stopped abruptly as Buffy came into the room. Everyone noticed immediately the difference in her as she made a beeline towards a suddenly tense Tara. Buffy's eyes glistened, then she pulled Tara into a tight embrace. "Thank you. So much."  
  
Tara hugged her back. "My pleasure."  
  
Buffy turned around to look at the rest of her friends. She smiled at the myriad of expressions staring back at her. "Hey, guys, who's up for hot chocolate?"  
  
  
  
End 


End file.
